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gothic poetry

er würde sogar seinen Witz haben
sie sprengte fierce Wein
Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
im Bereich
ängstlich nicht mehr, sage ich
rückwärts drehen Sie sich rückwärts
gegen die grüne Flamme des Weißdorn-Baums
bewiesen im Schimmer in Ihren Augen
ich muß sagen gute Nacht
niedrig! ' tis ein Galanacht
die Qual des Habens zu vieler Energie
meine ganze Liebe für meinen Bonbon
seien Sie nicht falsch

 



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